There was a point once when I thought that a year and a half without being in a relationship was a long time. It's been more than four years now, longer than it's ever been. It has only gotten harder and harder to want to be in a relationship, to conceive of being in a relationship.
It's not really a consideration or an option, but for the time being I'm still social, I still meet people, and I wonder about compatibility levels. But I always hit that point where the red flag goes up, and it's no way right then and there.
Most people have their red flags, but even when they're triggered, they steamroll right through them. For me, red flags are fatal. Not that anyone has shown any interest in me in the past four years.
As of tonight, there is one less potential person I'd even consider.
Thursday, February 27, 2003
"Shut out the world. Completely," the words whispered, echoed, and entered my ears as I sat at my kitchen table.
This is my life. This is what I've made of it. You can go back to a record of someone's life, and locate points such as "this is five years before her death, and at this point she does not know she will not be here in five years".
But five years ago, I knew. One year ago, I knew. And now, I know. Boy howdy, do I know.
What I've lived has been leading up to this. It has been by design. I've lived my life to scuttle my future potential and possibilities, my health, my prospects, all for this, to lead up to this last stretch. Faced with the last stretch, it's time for me to sprint. I haven't had an intimate in four years. I quit the band. I quit the job. It all fits together.
Time to pay dues. Shut out the world, disentwine me from the remaining people. I love them, but I loved the people in the past, too. This is more important. Maybe they'll understand, maybe they won't. Now get rid of everyone. Stop hanging out, stop socializing. Fade. Entwine no further. We have a date.
This is my life. This is what I've made of it. You can go back to a record of someone's life, and locate points such as "this is five years before her death, and at this point she does not know she will not be here in five years".
But five years ago, I knew. One year ago, I knew. And now, I know. Boy howdy, do I know.
What I've lived has been leading up to this. It has been by design. I've lived my life to scuttle my future potential and possibilities, my health, my prospects, all for this, to lead up to this last stretch. Faced with the last stretch, it's time for me to sprint. I haven't had an intimate in four years. I quit the band. I quit the job. It all fits together.
Time to pay dues. Shut out the world, disentwine me from the remaining people. I love them, but I loved the people in the past, too. This is more important. Maybe they'll understand, maybe they won't. Now get rid of everyone. Stop hanging out, stop socializing. Fade. Entwine no further. We have a date.
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
I'm better, but I'm still neurotic about performing.
I started playing in bands in high school. It was a once a year dealie, and I was always a bundle of nerves before going on. It was a bad feeling; hated it. In college I started doing open mics, playing my own, now-acknowledged-terrible, material and it always sucked getting up in front of a bunch of people; hated it with a passion.
Then I joined a steel drum band, and that was totally fine, no nerves, no stage-fright. The ensemble thing was the key, being just one of many, with any mistakes easily drowned out. I've done the ensemble thing ever since and I've never had trouble getting on stage.
Tonight I did my first open mic in over ten years, playing a song that is nine years old because I have no new material. And there it was, the old feeling, the gripping fear, the anxiety while preparing for the performance, not attributing the source of the anxiety with the performance.
Even while I was there, I was hesitant and resistant to playing, although I noticed that was also a delaying tactic to allow more people to arrive. You want to hold off to play in front of as many people possible, but not hold off too long that people get tired of prodding and you become irrelevant. You want to make it seem like you're going up against your will and better judgment. Neurotic.
Now that's a juicy piece of character analysis.
February 25, 2003; 2:32 P.M. - Rode up the Marin Headlands.
I started playing in bands in high school. It was a once a year dealie, and I was always a bundle of nerves before going on. It was a bad feeling; hated it. In college I started doing open mics, playing my own, now-acknowledged-terrible, material and it always sucked getting up in front of a bunch of people; hated it with a passion.
Then I joined a steel drum band, and that was totally fine, no nerves, no stage-fright. The ensemble thing was the key, being just one of many, with any mistakes easily drowned out. I've done the ensemble thing ever since and I've never had trouble getting on stage.
Tonight I did my first open mic in over ten years, playing a song that is nine years old because I have no new material. And there it was, the old feeling, the gripping fear, the anxiety while preparing for the performance, not attributing the source of the anxiety with the performance.
Even while I was there, I was hesitant and resistant to playing, although I noticed that was also a delaying tactic to allow more people to arrive. You want to hold off to play in front of as many people possible, but not hold off too long that people get tired of prodding and you become irrelevant. You want to make it seem like you're going up against your will and better judgment. Neurotic.
Now that's a juicy piece of character analysis.
February 25, 2003; 2:32 P.M. - Rode up the Marin Headlands.
Monday, February 24, 2003
Sunday, February 23, 2003
Sadie didn't know that I was done with relationships. I thought she knew that. We discussed our past relationships this evening.
It's kinda complicated how I decided that I'm through with relationships.
The simple explanation is that each of the years I've lived counts for two, which puts me past retirement age, and past the "relationship" age; assuming I'm not one of the Rolling Stones, which, by the way, I'm not. But it's kinda hard to convince anyone how one of my years actually equals two.
Another reason is that I've pretty much learned any and everything I want to learn from relationships. And if there is nothing to learn, I'm bored with it. Relationships aren't for my carnal needs or intimacy or whatever social bullshit. Everything is about learning. I'm not saying I couldn't learn any more from them, but just that I've learned everything that I want to. Bored now.
Furthermore, I just can't see intertwining and integrating someone else's life with mine. I've become too individual, too independent, too solitary, to let someone into my space and my time. I've become too defensive of my space and time. Any relationship I got into would require reservation of the right to say, "get the hell out", and where's the love in that?!
My attitude is not unrelated to my last relationship. This is something I realized recently. I broke things off for good in that last relationship because I felt she was monopolizing my time and my being.
I had just joined a band and realized I could not be in the band and the relationship at the same time. The pattern had shown that she would not let anything come before her, and being in a band was me, being in a band was putting myself ahead of her, and that couldn't be done.
So I cut off the relationship, which was in the midst of a fight that started on the day I had auditioned for that band.
My doubt now is that it wasn't just her monopolizing my time, but it was also my willingness to give up my time and my being for her. I have a pre-occupation with avoiding conflict, and that was manifested in my willingness to throw myself and my needs away to make her happy. Scary.
I still do think our break up was justified considering other circumstances, such as despite my pre-occupation with avoiding conflict, it was still there, but the shift of blame of the immediate cause is just more shared. I'm not able to say that if I got into another relationship, I wouldn't lose myself again for the sake of avoiding conflict.
Sadie did manage to elicit that I'm not refusing all relationships for the rest of my life. And it's true. I haven't 100% ruled out the possibility of finding a relationship that might make me want to live.
But if I went into the criteria required of a person I would be interested in . . . let's put it this way. It would be easier to find a cello-playing, motorcycle-riding, within-one-inch-of-my-height-wearing-two-inch-heels, with great hair, than it would be to find someone I would be willing to integrate into my life.
February 23, 2003; 5:20 P.M.
It's kinda complicated how I decided that I'm through with relationships.
The simple explanation is that each of the years I've lived counts for two, which puts me past retirement age, and past the "relationship" age; assuming I'm not one of the Rolling Stones, which, by the way, I'm not. But it's kinda hard to convince anyone how one of my years actually equals two.
Another reason is that I've pretty much learned any and everything I want to learn from relationships. And if there is nothing to learn, I'm bored with it. Relationships aren't for my carnal needs or intimacy or whatever social bullshit. Everything is about learning. I'm not saying I couldn't learn any more from them, but just that I've learned everything that I want to. Bored now.
Furthermore, I just can't see intertwining and integrating someone else's life with mine. I've become too individual, too independent, too solitary, to let someone into my space and my time. I've become too defensive of my space and time. Any relationship I got into would require reservation of the right to say, "get the hell out", and where's the love in that?!
My attitude is not unrelated to my last relationship. This is something I realized recently. I broke things off for good in that last relationship because I felt she was monopolizing my time and my being.
I had just joined a band and realized I could not be in the band and the relationship at the same time. The pattern had shown that she would not let anything come before her, and being in a band was me, being in a band was putting myself ahead of her, and that couldn't be done.
So I cut off the relationship, which was in the midst of a fight that started on the day I had auditioned for that band.
My doubt now is that it wasn't just her monopolizing my time, but it was also my willingness to give up my time and my being for her. I have a pre-occupation with avoiding conflict, and that was manifested in my willingness to throw myself and my needs away to make her happy. Scary.
I still do think our break up was justified considering other circumstances, such as despite my pre-occupation with avoiding conflict, it was still there, but the shift of blame of the immediate cause is just more shared. I'm not able to say that if I got into another relationship, I wouldn't lose myself again for the sake of avoiding conflict.
Sadie did manage to elicit that I'm not refusing all relationships for the rest of my life. And it's true. I haven't 100% ruled out the possibility of finding a relationship that might make me want to live.
But if I went into the criteria required of a person I would be interested in . . . let's put it this way. It would be easier to find a cello-playing, motorcycle-riding, within-one-inch-of-my-height-wearing-two-inch-heels, with great hair, than it would be to find someone I would be willing to integrate into my life.
February 23, 2003; 5:20 P.M.
Saturday, February 22, 2003
I noticed that since I've stopped publishing these posts, it's harder to hold onto thoughts and ideas that occur to me to post. This absolute freedom to post anything, knowing no one will read this even after I publish it (who's gonna come back this far), or if they do, it'll probably be after I'm no longer around, can be stifling.
It's a weird private space I've created for myself. Like building forts out of blankets and sofa cushions when you were a kid. And you just end up reading a comic book in there.
I'm reading a book called House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski. I got it after someone mentioned I reminded him of Johnny Truant. It's astounding, because he couldn't have had any idea!
I also think it's somewhat of a relief not to hear the true story. I mean you look at the horror sweeping all the way up from my wrists to my elbows, and you have to take a deep breath and ask yourself, do I really want to know what happened there? In my experience, most people don't. They usually look away. My stories actually help them look away. p. 20
I need to memorize that for next time someone asks about my arms, and execute it with appropriate Clint Eastwood menace. " . . . you have to take a deep breath and ask yourself, do I really want to know what happened there? Well, do ya? Punk."
It's a weird private space I've created for myself. Like building forts out of blankets and sofa cushions when you were a kid. And you just end up reading a comic book in there.
I'm reading a book called House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski. I got it after someone mentioned I reminded him of Johnny Truant. It's astounding, because he couldn't have had any idea!
I also think it's somewhat of a relief not to hear the true story. I mean you look at the horror sweeping all the way up from my wrists to my elbows, and you have to take a deep breath and ask yourself, do I really want to know what happened there? In my experience, most people don't. They usually look away. My stories actually help them look away. p. 20
I need to memorize that for next time someone asks about my arms, and execute it with appropriate Clint Eastwood menace. " . . . you have to take a deep breath and ask yourself, do I really want to know what happened there? Well, do ya? Punk."
Thursday, February 20, 2003
I'll get over the scam of closing this weblog. It's all actually kind of perfect. I'm still here, but I'm hiding. I don't know when I'll come out and publish this crap. It's not like any of this is secret or important, or even interesting. It's part experiment. Part game. Part testing other voices. Hey, I can even pick my nose here because no one is looking!
It's Thursday. The last person I saw was Delphine on Sunday when we tried to get into Interpol. She got in, I didn't, I headed home on Muni, stopping at Arinell for pizza. The last person I talked to was my mother on Tuesday. She tried to call on my birthday, but "couldn't get through". I was probably online. She doesn't know I'm unemployed.
The last person I talked to who matters was Kateri on Monday. Her last day of work is tomorrow, and I will see her this weekend to help her pack her stuff to send home. She leaves for good next Tuesday. I'm playing with how long I can go without social contact. It's all a game. Whoop, spoke too soon. I just got an email saying they're going to Beale St. tonight for Kateri.
I still haven't touched a guitar or turned on my music equipment. I've gone on a light jog and rode out on my bike for fun and for errands. I've been watching DVDs.
I'm unemployed. I'm 34. I'm retired. I feel like I don't exist. I'm still holding my life in my hand, turning it, looking at it from every angle, trying to make sense of it, and figuring out what it is and what I should do with it. And when I'm not doing that, I set it on the shelf and watch DVDs.
It's Thursday. The last person I saw was Delphine on Sunday when we tried to get into Interpol. She got in, I didn't, I headed home on Muni, stopping at Arinell for pizza. The last person I talked to was my mother on Tuesday. She tried to call on my birthday, but "couldn't get through". I was probably online. She doesn't know I'm unemployed.
The last person I talked to who matters was Kateri on Monday. Her last day of work is tomorrow, and I will see her this weekend to help her pack her stuff to send home. She leaves for good next Tuesday. I'm playing with how long I can go without social contact. It's all a game. Whoop, spoke too soon. I just got an email saying they're going to Beale St. tonight for Kateri.
I still haven't touched a guitar or turned on my music equipment. I've gone on a light jog and rode out on my bike for fun and for errands. I've been watching DVDs.
I'm unemployed. I'm 34. I'm retired. I feel like I don't exist. I'm still holding my life in my hand, turning it, looking at it from every angle, trying to make sense of it, and figuring out what it is and what I should do with it. And when I'm not doing that, I set it on the shelf and watch DVDs.
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
NB: the posts for the next two months were composed but not published at the time.
scam!
Holy shit, was closing this weblog just a scam?
I'm finding it hard to get away from this form of expression. Here. Just putting out what I'm thinking, what's on my mind.
But then why the whole ruse of starting a new weblog and ending this one? Why direct everyone over there and asking them to unlink this page? Why not just start the new weblog for the people I don't want coming here, and continue this weblog for the people who already know it's here? Why did I need that separation?
There's not an easy answer. Part of it may be that having found this community, I'm finding myself being self-conscious and self-censoring, so get rid of it, veil it, and see what really comes out on these pages. But that doesn't hold because some people might come back and find this. I still go back to weblogs that have purportedly ended to see if they're still down.
Part of it may be personality and psychology; running away from people, pushing them away for fear that they might be exposed to the truth about me. What truth about me? What the hell am I talking about? It might not be totally honest because of freaky psychology, but it's been as honest as I get.
Part of it may be the distillation of my personality into varying components. That other weblog is the palpable, palatable me. This is the real me; the Vampire Willow. I also have other web presences out there, and I suppose it will always be that way. The weblog I've been leading people to is pretty boring. It's just a web presence just to let them know I still walk the earth.
Part of it may just be the confluence of the one year mark of this weblog, my last day of work, and my birthday, which always seems to foreshadow dying, all within one week. Time to change, turn the page, start over.
It was a ritual act, with the full, thinly-veiled, unconscious intent to keep this weblog going, because it is a purer form of expression, of what I need to get out, but I need to be safe doing it. Safe?
I think that last one is probably closest to what's really going on. I was once diagnosed with having an "adjustment disorder", and I've learned to handle it, but it's still there and comes out in small ways now.
In fact, I probably could have kept all the entries leading up to the "final" entry, and then merrily continued the next day. This plan to keep posting but not publishing it all until some undetermined later date was pretty random. It's just what occurred to me. If I had thought of just continuing, I probably would have done that.
scam!
Holy shit, was closing this weblog just a scam?
I'm finding it hard to get away from this form of expression. Here. Just putting out what I'm thinking, what's on my mind.
But then why the whole ruse of starting a new weblog and ending this one? Why direct everyone over there and asking them to unlink this page? Why not just start the new weblog for the people I don't want coming here, and continue this weblog for the people who already know it's here? Why did I need that separation?
There's not an easy answer. Part of it may be that having found this community, I'm finding myself being self-conscious and self-censoring, so get rid of it, veil it, and see what really comes out on these pages. But that doesn't hold because some people might come back and find this. I still go back to weblogs that have purportedly ended to see if they're still down.
Part of it may be personality and psychology; running away from people, pushing them away for fear that they might be exposed to the truth about me. What truth about me? What the hell am I talking about? It might not be totally honest because of freaky psychology, but it's been as honest as I get.
Part of it may be the distillation of my personality into varying components. That other weblog is the palpable, palatable me. This is the real me; the Vampire Willow. I also have other web presences out there, and I suppose it will always be that way. The weblog I've been leading people to is pretty boring. It's just a web presence just to let them know I still walk the earth.
Part of it may just be the confluence of the one year mark of this weblog, my last day of work, and my birthday, which always seems to foreshadow dying, all within one week. Time to change, turn the page, start over.
It was a ritual act, with the full, thinly-veiled, unconscious intent to keep this weblog going, because it is a purer form of expression, of what I need to get out, but I need to be safe doing it. Safe?
I think that last one is probably closest to what's really going on. I was once diagnosed with having an "adjustment disorder", and I've learned to handle it, but it's still there and comes out in small ways now.
In fact, I probably could have kept all the entries leading up to the "final" entry, and then merrily continued the next day. This plan to keep posting but not publishing it all until some undetermined later date was pretty random. It's just what occurred to me. If I had thought of just continuing, I probably would have done that.
Friday, February 14, 2003
----- Original Message -----
From: me
To: a buttload of co-workers
Sent: Friday, February 14, 2003 11:57 AM
Subject: So long, suckers
Well folks,
As you may have heard by now, at last month’s firm meeting, Barbara brought it to the partners’ attention that she did not believe I was working hard enough. Although I’m sure her intent was merely to express her opinion, a series of internal inquiries and investigations ensued, and the pressure has led me to the decision to step down from my position and leave the firm. To her credit, she didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition. Right, Barb, no one expected the Spanish Inquisition!
A man of few words, I part with no speeches, no words of wisdom, perhaps a (loving) raspberry at Barb, and a collection of e-mail chains that kept me amused through the ages that sums it up better than I ever could (I hope I get no one in trouble). Thanks to all:
#1 (August 9, 2000)
Sujoy:
Here is the skinny guys on the 7th floor. They want that populated at the latest by the 11th of September. It is our responsibliity to get a good clone ready to put on 30 GATEWAY systems that I am ordering next week. So let's finish up on the LATEST clone as soon as possible, because the GATEWAYS are coming in. I hope to place an order by next week. Sujoy
Barb:
Thank you but, I really don’t much care about the skinny guys on the 7th floor…now, if there were cute HUNKY guys on the 7th floor, you’d catch my attention (well, partially)…..Sincerely, Barb
Me:
No, no you silly bird, they’re going to populate the 7th floor with skinny guys. Read more carefully, Barb.
Jeptha:
Koji, Hate to nit pick, but they actually want to populate the 7th floor with skinny guy clones. Jeptha
#2 (February 22, 2002)
Katie:
Tracking 7917 8285 0856.
Katie:
Scratch the old tracking number. The correct one is 7924 9255 8836.
Me:
Whoa! Not even close.
Katie:
I had to do a new pack dork.
#3 (October 23, 2001)
Jordan:
Greg and Amy are hoarding the Oracle letterhead.
Amy:
It’s Greg. He likes to decorate his cube with it.
Greg:
Does anybody have any Oracle letterhead? I REALLY need it!
#4 (December 18, 2000)
Sophie:
Were you here at BAL last Christmas?
Me:
Yea, why?
Sophie:
do we get to get off early on Fri? (ha...)
Me:
I don't think so. Is that all?
Sophie:
yes...alright, thanks.
Me:
oh my god, that was the most boring e-mail exchange I've ever had!!!
Sophie:
I think that was very IMPORTANT and VALID email inquiry...should frame it!
#5 (January 24, 2001)
Sang:
I like my apartment. Its got nice hardwood floors...the kind where if you wear the right kind of socks you can skate around the room. I don't even walk anymore when I'm home.
Me:
Oh I love hardwood floors like that, I get down on my knees, put my face close and caress the floor with my cheeks and whisper, “oh money, oh money”
Sang:
What the hell is wrong with you?!
#6 (May 29, 2001)
Shunlonda:
Subject: Cold
Someone from the building is on the way to cut the air off. Shunlonda
Barb:
Yeah, thanks…who needs air.
#7
Barb:
Just a warm fuzzy reminder to please respect that we share the kitchen…do not leave your dishes in the sink. I am a bit disheartened since I came in this a.m. and took the time to empty the dishwasher, the dish drain and put someone else’s dishes in the dishwasher that were left from Friday I assume. By 8:30 am, there were more dishes left in the sink….even though the dishwasher and the dish drain were empty. Thank you for your positive response to this gentle urging to be respectful of others.
Me:
Bollocks!! Bollocks and yarbles!
Barb:
Bollocks, Rollocks, Ballocks, Bannocks, Nads, Nuts, Sacs, Bags, Niags, Beanbags, Boy Bags, Jizzbags, Knackers, Clackers, Maracas, Pods, Cods, Spuds, Tatties, Goolies, Googlies, Goerbals, Gonads, Testicles, Conkers, Cobblers, Chuckies, Urals, Balkans, Love Spheres, Seaman Spheres, Golden Globes, Family Jewels, Spunk Factories, Balls, Plums, Scrotes, Marbles, Yarbles, Yongles, Bangles, Love Spuds, Happy Sacs, Kossacks, Nuggets, Nik-Nax, Crackerjacks, Wedding Tackle, 2 Veg, Pills, Stones, Orchestras, Betties, Jacksons, Danglies, Backwheels, Wank Tanks and John Wayne's Hairy Saddle Bags.
#8 (August 14, 2001)
Despina:
"We could of taken a forfeited victory but chose to play. In our best game thus far we racked up ten runs, which is more than some teams get in two games. Still, it was one less than the other team scored. On a good note, we looked very professional in our new jerseys. Which leads me to an important David Lee Roth quote: “It’s not who wins or who loses, it’s who looks the best while they’re playing.” Definitely us."
What she meant:
We could of taken a forfeited victory but chose to play (We were beaten by a team that had fewer players than we did). In our best game thus far we racked up ten runs, which is more than our team got in the past two games. Still, it was one less than the other team scored. On a good note, we would look very professional in new jersey. Which leads me to an important David Lee Roth quote: “Bozy bozy bop, ziddy bop.” Definitely us.
#9
Theresa :
Has anyone considered that the date of the signature will precede the date of the stats in section 8?
Me:
Always the stick in the mud, aren’t you?
Theresa:
Actually it was eric that pointed this out….I just assumed credit knowing that all would be thrilled with the information.
Me:
Oh yes, it was much funnier coming from you. If Eric sent the exact same message, everyone would have thought he was just being facetious.
Eric:
Hey, for the record, I was just being facetious.
#10
Me:
Can I send this?:
Theresa (my boss):
Not yet. I want to think about this and maybe speak with Christine. One ad may be of more use than local ads. more tomorrow.
Me:
Okey dokey, Thanks! Speaking of ads, for some reason NC Microsoft comes to mind. I’m not sure why.
Theresa:
Micro who?
#11
Me to HelpDesk:
I get a message trying to get on all databases connections that says “Can’t attach to specified device”. I thought it was everyone, but one of my co-workers got on. Please, Help Desk, can you help me?
Dan:
What did you do?
Me:
I tried to log on the MSDB connections and then I spilled orange juice all over the inside of the computer through the CD-ROM and floppy disk drives and then shook vigorously by accident.
#12 (June 28, 2001)
Widmark:
Subject: One more big bug
Me:
One more big bug? The only big bug I know about is called “VisaBase”.
Greg Leventis:
Long live VisaBase! The Darth Vader of BAL. Actually, I don’t think it’s bad. It just has some stuff to work out and we have to get used to it. I’m really pretty impressed that our crew put together their own software. Peace and love,
Me:
That’s true, we just need to show some patience, tolerance, and understanding. If we hadn’t shown that towards Greg and judged him by how we first saw him, it would be our loss and we would be missing one really, really great person. Nay, dare I say . . . friend. I am proud to list Greg among my friends, along with VisaBase.
Greg:
Are you comparing ME to that shitty program!?!?
#13
Me to Finance:
We need to order a copy of this Sunday’s “Charlotte Observer”. I recall that ordering newspapers needs to be done through the finance department. Can you tell me to whom I make the request and any other special instructions?
Finance:
Never heard of that before...but all you have to do is purchase the paper(s), then submit an approved reimbursement request.
Me:
Thanks, but with what should we purchase the newspaper?
Finance:
Well, you can submit for a check request if they'll accept that, or use a credit card. Elva has a corporate card if that will help.
Me:
Yes, I would like to use the corporate card, is there a way I can access it.
Theresa:
I take no responsibility if you give Koji access to a corporate card!
Epilogue: Wayne to the rescue ordered the paper.
#14 (June 22, 2001)
Jordan:
A moment of silence for John Lee Hooker.
Greg:
Is john lee hooker dead?
Jordan:
No, Greg, he just wants some silence.
#15: (November 2, 2001)
Me:
Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that your I-140 petition has been approved.
Client:
It is what I can call a GOOD NEW for a quite Friday. You always were quick and sure responding my questions. It gave me an absolutely confidence I was in good hands. Thanks a lot for all your support during this process. I wish the best for you in your career.
Big Hug ,
Theresa:
Big Hug? We need to talk about appropriate professional relations with our clients. Did you miss that seminar?
#16
Joy Mandanas (and Dan Horne, and me, and Sang, and . . . ):
HEY CHECK OUT THIS SHOCKWAVE MOVIE!!
(it was a virus that took down our servers for a day or three, ed.)
#17 (January 4, 2001)
Zenaida (to me):
and speaking of cool people leaving....Debra was telling me you are seriously contemplating leaving...
From: me
To: a buttload of co-workers
Sent: Friday, February 14, 2003 11:57 AM
Subject: So long, suckers
Well folks,
As you may have heard by now, at last month’s firm meeting, Barbara brought it to the partners’ attention that she did not believe I was working hard enough. Although I’m sure her intent was merely to express her opinion, a series of internal inquiries and investigations ensued, and the pressure has led me to the decision to step down from my position and leave the firm. To her credit, she didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition. Right, Barb, no one expected the Spanish Inquisition!
A man of few words, I part with no speeches, no words of wisdom, perhaps a (loving) raspberry at Barb, and a collection of e-mail chains that kept me amused through the ages that sums it up better than I ever could (I hope I get no one in trouble). Thanks to all:
#1 (August 9, 2000)
Sujoy:
Here is the skinny guys on the 7th floor. They want that populated at the latest by the 11th of September. It is our responsibliity to get a good clone ready to put on 30 GATEWAY systems that I am ordering next week. So let's finish up on the LATEST clone as soon as possible, because the GATEWAYS are coming in. I hope to place an order by next week. Sujoy
Barb:
Thank you but, I really don’t much care about the skinny guys on the 7th floor…now, if there were cute HUNKY guys on the 7th floor, you’d catch my attention (well, partially)…..Sincerely, Barb
Me:
No, no you silly bird, they’re going to populate the 7th floor with skinny guys. Read more carefully, Barb.
Jeptha:
Koji, Hate to nit pick, but they actually want to populate the 7th floor with skinny guy clones. Jeptha
#2 (February 22, 2002)
Katie:
Tracking 7917 8285 0856.
Katie:
Scratch the old tracking number. The correct one is 7924 9255 8836.
Me:
Whoa! Not even close.
Katie:
I had to do a new pack dork.
#3 (October 23, 2001)
Jordan:
Greg and Amy are hoarding the Oracle letterhead.
Amy:
It’s Greg. He likes to decorate his cube with it.
Greg:
Does anybody have any Oracle letterhead? I REALLY need it!
#4 (December 18, 2000)
Sophie:
Were you here at BAL last Christmas?
Me:
Yea, why?
Sophie:
do we get to get off early on Fri? (ha...)
Me:
I don't think so. Is that all?
Sophie:
yes...alright, thanks.
Me:
oh my god, that was the most boring e-mail exchange I've ever had!!!
Sophie:
I think that was very IMPORTANT and VALID email inquiry...should frame it!
#5 (January 24, 2001)
Sang:
I like my apartment. Its got nice hardwood floors...the kind where if you wear the right kind of socks you can skate around the room. I don't even walk anymore when I'm home.
Me:
Oh I love hardwood floors like that, I get down on my knees, put my face close and caress the floor with my cheeks and whisper, “oh money, oh money”
Sang:
What the hell is wrong with you?!
#6 (May 29, 2001)
Shunlonda:
Subject: Cold
Someone from the building is on the way to cut the air off. Shunlonda
Barb:
Yeah, thanks…who needs air.
#7
Barb:
Just a warm fuzzy reminder to please respect that we share the kitchen…do not leave your dishes in the sink. I am a bit disheartened since I came in this a.m. and took the time to empty the dishwasher, the dish drain and put someone else’s dishes in the dishwasher that were left from Friday I assume. By 8:30 am, there were more dishes left in the sink….even though the dishwasher and the dish drain were empty. Thank you for your positive response to this gentle urging to be respectful of others.
Me:
Bollocks!! Bollocks and yarbles!
Barb:
Bollocks, Rollocks, Ballocks, Bannocks, Nads, Nuts, Sacs, Bags, Niags, Beanbags, Boy Bags, Jizzbags, Knackers, Clackers, Maracas, Pods, Cods, Spuds, Tatties, Goolies, Googlies, Goerbals, Gonads, Testicles, Conkers, Cobblers, Chuckies, Urals, Balkans, Love Spheres, Seaman Spheres, Golden Globes, Family Jewels, Spunk Factories, Balls, Plums, Scrotes, Marbles, Yarbles, Yongles, Bangles, Love Spuds, Happy Sacs, Kossacks, Nuggets, Nik-Nax, Crackerjacks, Wedding Tackle, 2 Veg, Pills, Stones, Orchestras, Betties, Jacksons, Danglies, Backwheels, Wank Tanks and John Wayne's Hairy Saddle Bags.
#8 (August 14, 2001)
Despina:
"We could of taken a forfeited victory but chose to play. In our best game thus far we racked up ten runs, which is more than some teams get in two games. Still, it was one less than the other team scored. On a good note, we looked very professional in our new jerseys. Which leads me to an important David Lee Roth quote: “It’s not who wins or who loses, it’s who looks the best while they’re playing.” Definitely us."
What she meant:
We could of taken a forfeited victory but chose to play (We were beaten by a team that had fewer players than we did). In our best game thus far we racked up ten runs, which is more than our team got in the past two games. Still, it was one less than the other team scored. On a good note, we would look very professional in new jersey. Which leads me to an important David Lee Roth quote: “Bozy bozy bop, ziddy bop.” Definitely us.
#9
Theresa :
Has anyone considered that the date of the signature will precede the date of the stats in section 8?
Me:
Always the stick in the mud, aren’t you?
Theresa:
Actually it was eric that pointed this out….I just assumed credit knowing that all would be thrilled with the information.
Me:
Oh yes, it was much funnier coming from you. If Eric sent the exact same message, everyone would have thought he was just being facetious.
Eric:
Hey, for the record, I was just being facetious.
#10
Me:
Can I send this?:
Theresa (my boss):
Not yet. I want to think about this and maybe speak with Christine. One ad may be of more use than local ads. more tomorrow.
Me:
Okey dokey, Thanks! Speaking of ads, for some reason NC Microsoft comes to mind. I’m not sure why.
Theresa:
Micro who?
#11
Me to HelpDesk:
I get a message trying to get on all databases connections that says “Can’t attach to specified device”. I thought it was everyone, but one of my co-workers got on. Please, Help Desk, can you help me?
Dan:
What did you do?
Me:
I tried to log on the MSDB connections and then I spilled orange juice all over the inside of the computer through the CD-ROM and floppy disk drives and then shook vigorously by accident.
#12 (June 28, 2001)
Widmark:
Subject: One more big bug
Me:
One more big bug? The only big bug I know about is called “VisaBase”.
Greg Leventis:
Long live VisaBase! The Darth Vader of BAL. Actually, I don’t think it’s bad. It just has some stuff to work out and we have to get used to it. I’m really pretty impressed that our crew put together their own software. Peace and love,
Me:
That’s true, we just need to show some patience, tolerance, and understanding. If we hadn’t shown that towards Greg and judged him by how we first saw him, it would be our loss and we would be missing one really, really great person. Nay, dare I say . . . friend. I am proud to list Greg among my friends, along with VisaBase.
Greg:
Are you comparing ME to that shitty program!?!?
#13
Me to Finance:
We need to order a copy of this Sunday’s “Charlotte Observer”. I recall that ordering newspapers needs to be done through the finance department. Can you tell me to whom I make the request and any other special instructions?
Finance:
Never heard of that before...but all you have to do is purchase the paper(s), then submit an approved reimbursement request.
Me:
Thanks, but with what should we purchase the newspaper?
Finance:
Well, you can submit for a check request if they'll accept that, or use a credit card. Elva has a corporate card if that will help.
Me:
Yes, I would like to use the corporate card, is there a way I can access it.
Theresa:
I take no responsibility if you give Koji access to a corporate card!
Epilogue: Wayne to the rescue ordered the paper.
#14 (June 22, 2001)
Jordan:
A moment of silence for John Lee Hooker.
Greg:
Is john lee hooker dead?
Jordan:
No, Greg, he just wants some silence.
#15: (November 2, 2001)
Me:
Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that your I-140 petition has been approved.
Client:
It is what I can call a GOOD NEW for a quite Friday. You always were quick and sure responding my questions. It gave me an absolutely confidence I was in good hands. Thanks a lot for all your support during this process. I wish the best for you in your career.
Big Hug ,
Theresa:
Big Hug? We need to talk about appropriate professional relations with our clients. Did you miss that seminar?
#16
Joy Mandanas (and Dan Horne, and me, and Sang, and . . . ):
HEY CHECK OUT THIS SHOCKWAVE MOVIE!!
(it was a virus that took down our servers for a day or three, ed.)
#17 (January 4, 2001)
Zenaida (to me):
and speaking of cool people leaving....Debra was telling me you are seriously contemplating leaving...
Thursday, February 13, 2003
If there's one thing this weblog has taught me is that at my honestest, I'm still not very honest with myself. Still so much hidden, still so much veiled (thinly!), still so much double-meaninged. And in what I don't post, so much that I just can't face.
How do you people do it? How do you feel like you belong in this world? How do you feel like you like to be in this world? How do you want to be here, because if you accept being here just because you were put here, I just don't get it.
Don't get me wrong, this world is quite wonderful at its best, and there's so much that I appreciate and love so much that I just want to explode. I don't take this for granted. It could be far worse. I just can't be brought to just accept this flesh, blood and bone, and that it is life.
I got a call from my old bandmate, and I can't go on ignoring her, I have to reply this time, it would seriously be bad form not to reply, so I will. I just have this instinct to tear things down and leave things behind and run the hell away.
I took the bus to work because it was rainy, and watching the old Chinese folk with their perceived different cultural mindsets made me want to run away to another country and be an ex-pat. Shake things up, see more.
But I'm not that brave, I'm not that resourceful. And even those who I love I will eventually run away from, even in the scene where I'm supposed to be going door to door for someone just to give me a chance. I'll line up all the people I've decided to love, and I'll turn around and walk away. (just so that they don't walk away from me?)
A day and a half more at my job. It's not a big deal. The big deal was giving notice, that was the 100% commitment. The actual last day is not the 100% commitment, it's irrelevant, it's merely the vacant, vacuous act; 100% commitment symbolized. Trim down these four weeks between 100% commitment and the act into a matter of minutes or seconds, and now we're talking.
"Bored now"
- Vampire Willow
How do you people do it? How do you feel like you belong in this world? How do you feel like you like to be in this world? How do you want to be here, because if you accept being here just because you were put here, I just don't get it.
Don't get me wrong, this world is quite wonderful at its best, and there's so much that I appreciate and love so much that I just want to explode. I don't take this for granted. It could be far worse. I just can't be brought to just accept this flesh, blood and bone, and that it is life.
I got a call from my old bandmate, and I can't go on ignoring her, I have to reply this time, it would seriously be bad form not to reply, so I will. I just have this instinct to tear things down and leave things behind and run the hell away.
I took the bus to work because it was rainy, and watching the old Chinese folk with their perceived different cultural mindsets made me want to run away to another country and be an ex-pat. Shake things up, see more.
But I'm not that brave, I'm not that resourceful. And even those who I love I will eventually run away from, even in the scene where I'm supposed to be going door to door for someone just to give me a chance. I'll line up all the people I've decided to love, and I'll turn around and walk away. (just so that they don't walk away from me?)
A day and a half more at my job. It's not a big deal. The big deal was giving notice, that was the 100% commitment. The actual last day is not the 100% commitment, it's irrelevant, it's merely the vacant, vacuous act; 100% commitment symbolized. Trim down these four weeks between 100% commitment and the act into a matter of minutes or seconds, and now we're talking.
"Bored now"
- Vampire Willow
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
Guerilla Poetry Corner, a series: by Gage-O
#7
"The Life of Greg"
Greg
got up this
morning
and
ate
the
food.
ha ha
hee hee
food is funny.
#8
"Judgement"
Are you Canadian?
Get the fuck away from me!
#7
"The Life of Greg"
Greg
got up this
morning
and
ate
the
food.
ha ha
hee hee
food is funny.
#8
"Judgement"
Are you Canadian?
Get the fuck away from me!
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
It intrigues me so
In a nutshell, the universe is 13.7 billion years old, plus or minus one percent . . . By weight it is 4 percent atoms, 23 percent dark matter — presumably undiscovered elementary particles left over from the Big Bang — and 73 percent dark energy. And it is geometrically "flat," meaning that parallel lines will not meet over cosmic scales.
The result, the astronomers said, is a seamless and consistent history of the universe, from its first few seconds, when it was a sizzling soup of particles and energy, to the modern day and a sky beribboned with chains of pearly galaxies inhabited by at least one race of puzzled and ambitious bipeds.
Still twisting my imagination to grasp what a "flat" universe is.
In a nutshell, the universe is 13.7 billion years old, plus or minus one percent . . . By weight it is 4 percent atoms, 23 percent dark matter — presumably undiscovered elementary particles left over from the Big Bang — and 73 percent dark energy. And it is geometrically "flat," meaning that parallel lines will not meet over cosmic scales.
The result, the astronomers said, is a seamless and consistent history of the universe, from its first few seconds, when it was a sizzling soup of particles and energy, to the modern day and a sky beribboned with chains of pearly galaxies inhabited by at least one race of puzzled and ambitious bipeds.
Still twisting my imagination to grasp what a "flat" universe is.
Monday, February 10, 2003
I'm still thinking I'll stop posting here once I quit my job, but I'm not very good at making sweeping definitive decisions. So who knows? Who knows the internal mechanics of a flaky mind?
At this point, four days away, it just feels right, that sense of closure. But that sense of closure needs to be understood in the context of an impending four days that feels like re-entry. Lots of shaking, lots of rumble, smoke, and bright light. No room to second guess, no room to question decisions, no room for fear, just grit your teeth sneer and go for it!
Quitting a job is not supposed to feel like this, it's just my neurotic self, all into the ultra dramatique. Endings are supposed to end, forget the epilogue, forget the catharsis, just end. When, really, a weblog ending is no ending at all! It's not like I killed myself.
At this point, four days away, it just feels right, that sense of closure. But that sense of closure needs to be understood in the context of an impending four days that feels like re-entry. Lots of shaking, lots of rumble, smoke, and bright light. No room to second guess, no room to question decisions, no room for fear, just grit your teeth sneer and go for it!
Quitting a job is not supposed to feel like this, it's just my neurotic self, all into the ultra dramatique. Endings are supposed to end, forget the epilogue, forget the catharsis, just end. When, really, a weblog ending is no ending at all! It's not like I killed myself.
Wednesday, February 05, 2003
I've had a pain in my arm for a week and a half. Things that ail me usually go away by themselves, but this seemed to be persisting. The interesting thing was that every time I thought about calling Kaiser to make a doctor's appointment, the pain magically went away. I'm so mental! (oops, ixnay on the entalmay).
I hesitate to call Kaiser because of my last experience with them. Thrice I made psychiatric appointments with them, twice the doctor didn't show up. The one time she did show up, after 45 minutes she concluded that my problem wasn't bad enough for me to see her regularly through my company's insurance plan, but it was so bad that I probably needed to go into more intense therapy.
I sent a letter of complaint to Kaiser regarding the two times she didn't show up. They contacted me back and told me they were taking the matter very seriously, and I also had the option of using the complaints procedure reporting this to the State Health Department or something.
They also mentioned that "Dr. Jeong was also having problems at the time". Greeeaaatt. Kaiser Hospitals experience. For those who don't know about Kaiser Hospitals, they have a shitty, shitty reputation
I felt my letter was enough and let the matter drop. In their follow-up, they asked me if I would like to make an appointment with another doctor. I declined. The experience made me feel a whole lot better. I have issues, but I'm really not the one who's screwed up!
Anyway, I finally did go to the doctor for this arm pain. I described my symptoms to the doctor very specifically, and he immediately got a sense of what it was and asked a bunch of leading questions that I affirmed. Everything I said reinforced his theory of what it was.
Turns out he knew because he had it before. He mused, "You don't seem too concerned about this and you're probably just curious about what the hell is going on", because that was his reaction, and he was right. It was a pain, but it was just a pain. It didn't feel like something was seriously damaged.
He called it Cervical Radiculopathy (props to Kateri for the best response: "You don't have a cervix"), a nerve impingement, in my case most likely in my neck, affecting the nerves running down my right arm.
As a nerve problem, it doesn't affect my muscles, explaining my ability to work, and ride, and audition, and perform anything physical that I want to despite the pain. It also explains the ineffectiveness of Advil to stop the pain.
When he experienced it, he said it went away after five months. I, too, expect this to go away in considerably less time.
Physical ailments are not my challenge in this lifetime. This arm pain was something new and I was just curious. If I didn't have insurance that was about to run out, I wouldn't have bothered at all. But as long as I have insurance, I decided to use it.
Bottom line is that physical ailment, I don't care. If you care about physical ailments, you care about living as long as possible; not my concern. Give me an existential problem and I'll get stuck on it, like if nothing's pulling me away, why don't I just stay, but a pain, even a debilitating pain, in my arm is nothing. Although it does bother me a little why it's happening at all. Of course, I have my answer to that. Whoops, ixnay on the entalmay.
And now:
The plan is to call in sick tomorrow and head up to Tahoe to meet up with my bro again. If I go, I'll be back Saturday night-ish.
I hesitate to call Kaiser because of my last experience with them. Thrice I made psychiatric appointments with them, twice the doctor didn't show up. The one time she did show up, after 45 minutes she concluded that my problem wasn't bad enough for me to see her regularly through my company's insurance plan, but it was so bad that I probably needed to go into more intense therapy.
I sent a letter of complaint to Kaiser regarding the two times she didn't show up. They contacted me back and told me they were taking the matter very seriously, and I also had the option of using the complaints procedure reporting this to the State Health Department or something.
They also mentioned that "Dr. Jeong was also having problems at the time". Greeeaaatt. Kaiser Hospitals experience. For those who don't know about Kaiser Hospitals, they have a shitty, shitty reputation
I felt my letter was enough and let the matter drop. In their follow-up, they asked me if I would like to make an appointment with another doctor. I declined. The experience made me feel a whole lot better. I have issues, but I'm really not the one who's screwed up!
Anyway, I finally did go to the doctor for this arm pain. I described my symptoms to the doctor very specifically, and he immediately got a sense of what it was and asked a bunch of leading questions that I affirmed. Everything I said reinforced his theory of what it was.
Turns out he knew because he had it before. He mused, "You don't seem too concerned about this and you're probably just curious about what the hell is going on", because that was his reaction, and he was right. It was a pain, but it was just a pain. It didn't feel like something was seriously damaged.
He called it Cervical Radiculopathy (props to Kateri for the best response: "You don't have a cervix"), a nerve impingement, in my case most likely in my neck, affecting the nerves running down my right arm.
As a nerve problem, it doesn't affect my muscles, explaining my ability to work, and ride, and audition, and perform anything physical that I want to despite the pain. It also explains the ineffectiveness of Advil to stop the pain.
When he experienced it, he said it went away after five months. I, too, expect this to go away in considerably less time.
Physical ailments are not my challenge in this lifetime. This arm pain was something new and I was just curious. If I didn't have insurance that was about to run out, I wouldn't have bothered at all. But as long as I have insurance, I decided to use it.
Bottom line is that physical ailment, I don't care. If you care about physical ailments, you care about living as long as possible; not my concern. Give me an existential problem and I'll get stuck on it, like if nothing's pulling me away, why don't I just stay, but a pain, even a debilitating pain, in my arm is nothing. Although it does bother me a little why it's happening at all. Of course, I have my answer to that. Whoops, ixnay on the entalmay.
And now:
The plan is to call in sick tomorrow and head up to Tahoe to meet up with my bro again. If I go, I'll be back Saturday night-ish.
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
how dry I am, how dry I am, nobody knows how dry I am:
God, what a funny song that is. I came home and had the smashing idea of staying dry this evening! It's so boring! I feel duh and blah. Now I remember why I drink.
I realize my brain would be a much better companion if I hadn't been killing off its cells all these years, but it's too late now. Livers come home to pasture, but brain cells are up shits creek without a paddle.
I know I didn't just do it, but I want to mix metaphors more. I love mixed metaphors. Shit is funny. If I hadn't been killing off brain cells all these years, I could probably do it.
So tonight was a sober waste of an evening. Now I'm worried that I won't be able to get to sleep. I admit to a mild addiction to alcohol, but if I wentwild cold turkey, I don't think I'd have too serious a physical response.
Not like caffeine, without which my brain goes wiggy and I can't focus or concentrate. I think the effects of alcohol deprivation is mostly on my sleep, which has continued to be pretty bad even with alcohol saturation. Ooh, let's see if I don't wake up at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning!
One dry night at home is not about addiction, it's more about resisting a behavioral habit. Not hard.
addendum: Nope, still woke up prematurely after five hours of sleep. The best thing to do in these situations is to just get up. I've found if I try to go back to sleep and succeed, then I won't be able to get up until 8:30 or 9:00, and it will be extremely difficult. Of course, in a week and a half, this will be moot.
Falling asleep sober was interesting. Usually, I plunge into my blankets face first and wiggle and turn into them until I'm comfortable. But last night I climbed into bed like a normal person and lay there for what may have been 20-30 minutes.
It's been a long time since I've had that experience: You're lying there and suddenly your consciousness slips away a notch and things get darker and muted, and you notice it, but you quickly think, "That's ok, you're just falling asleep", but if you think too much you'll be awake again, and so you try to stay there, but if you try too hard, you'll be awake again. There must be some metaphor in this.
God, what a funny song that is. I came home and had the smashing idea of staying dry this evening! It's so boring! I feel duh and blah. Now I remember why I drink.
I realize my brain would be a much better companion if I hadn't been killing off its cells all these years, but it's too late now. Livers come home to pasture, but brain cells are up shits creek without a paddle.
I know I didn't just do it, but I want to mix metaphors more. I love mixed metaphors. Shit is funny. If I hadn't been killing off brain cells all these years, I could probably do it.
So tonight was a sober waste of an evening. Now I'm worried that I won't be able to get to sleep. I admit to a mild addiction to alcohol, but if I went
Not like caffeine, without which my brain goes wiggy and I can't focus or concentrate. I think the effects of alcohol deprivation is mostly on my sleep, which has continued to be pretty bad even with alcohol saturation. Ooh, let's see if I don't wake up at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning!
One dry night at home is not about addiction, it's more about resisting a behavioral habit. Not hard.
addendum: Nope, still woke up prematurely after five hours of sleep. The best thing to do in these situations is to just get up. I've found if I try to go back to sleep and succeed, then I won't be able to get up until 8:30 or 9:00, and it will be extremely difficult. Of course, in a week and a half, this will be moot.
Falling asleep sober was interesting. Usually, I plunge into my blankets face first and wiggle and turn into them until I'm comfortable. But last night I climbed into bed like a normal person and lay there for what may have been 20-30 minutes.
It's been a long time since I've had that experience: You're lying there and suddenly your consciousness slips away a notch and things get darker and muted, and you notice it, but you quickly think, "That's ok, you're just falling asleep", but if you think too much you'll be awake again, and so you try to stay there, but if you try too hard, you'll be awake again. There must be some metaphor in this.
Monday, February 03, 2003
I've decided that joy and sorrow are not linear with sorrow going that way, and joy going the other way on a line scale; not two different, separate, opposite things. Rather, like most seemingly opposite things, they are one big circle and just gradients of the same thing.
There are times I've felt sorrow so intense that I started feeling pangs of joy in the bottom of it. And I'm sure it's much more common to feel such a great joy or beauty that it starts taking on tinges of sorrow in its ephemerality.
For me, at least. I wouldn't expect too many people to get the joy within the sorrow. When people get into the sorrow, they seem to just get stuck there. But I don't know. I guess it helps if you're characteristically suicidal or a fatalist. Or Murphy of Murphy's Law fame.
"Poetry Corner", a series, by Gage-O:
#6
“Little Thoughts”
Sometimes,
I have
little thoughts
about you.
I think,
maybe
she thinks
I’m rich
or something.
I think,
maybe
she thinks
I love
her.
I think,
maybe
she thinks
I’m a
robot
from
the planet
TRITOR 7QB.
There are times I've felt sorrow so intense that I started feeling pangs of joy in the bottom of it. And I'm sure it's much more common to feel such a great joy or beauty that it starts taking on tinges of sorrow in its ephemerality.
For me, at least. I wouldn't expect too many people to get the joy within the sorrow. When people get into the sorrow, they seem to just get stuck there. But I don't know. I guess it helps if you're characteristically suicidal or a fatalist. Or Murphy of Murphy's Law fame.
"Poetry Corner", a series, by Gage-O:
#6
“Little Thoughts”
Sometimes,
I have
little thoughts
about you.
I think,
maybe
she thinks
I’m rich
or something.
I think,
maybe
she thinks
I love
her.
I think,
maybe
she thinks
I’m a
robot
from
the planet
TRITOR 7QB.
Sunday, February 02, 2003
My brother, Rob, flew in yesterday. He and a bunch of friends, mostly doctors, are going to Tahoe for a week. I met up with them today and went to Napa with them for wine tasting. It confounds me profoundly how my brother consistently surrounds himself with genuinely funny, clever, intelligent, good-hearted, conscientious people.
In high school, Rob's group of friends were creative, funny, intelligent, interesting, and fun to be around. In college, his group of friends were intelligent, funny, interesting, and witty. And it continues now. All of them basically good people.
It must be a reflection of his character. I don't think he's that much different from me in terms of social interaction, but something at his core is a magnet that attracts really good people into his life.
At my core is a magnet that attracts misfits and crazies who I love dearly for as long as they last in my life, but are more about crazy than . . . the "good life" (that is to say "crazy" is artistic and creative and facing demons, and the "good life" symbolizes normative and mature).
However, Rob is also the "distant" sibling. When he is around, he's kind, warm, and accommodating. A great brother by any measure, but when he's not around, he does his best to have as little to do with the family as possible and he's hard to nail down.
He's a wall that none of us can read. He was the middle child who was caught between fights between me and our other brother and me and our parents. We exchanged our share of fisticuffs as well. And whatever I went through to mess me up, he went through, too.
The emotional toll, I shouldn't wonder, was significant, which is why all slack gets cut for him now. As far as I'm concerned, he can do no wrong, but it is frustrating when he's vague and elusive.
There was one summer that I stayed with my brothers when they were living together in Providence, Rhode Island, where they both attended Brown University. I was shocked to witness Rob venomously cutting down Tom, our oldest brother, for doing some slight thing wrong.
Tom just stood there and took it (one of my thoughts at the time was that Rob would never talk to me in that tone of voice). I don't think he is proud of that behavior, which might explain why when he acts or does something in a way that might objectively be perceived as being inconsiderate or 'not thoughtful' to me, he'll go into a mumbling waffle, subtly addressing, defending, or justifying why he didn't do this, or why he didn't do that, in narrative form, when he doesn't need to justify anything to me.
I don't think I'll ever get to know what's inside him, or how he feels about what he went through with the family. Come to think of it, though, I think all I need to know about him is reflected in the friends who surround him.
In high school, Rob's group of friends were creative, funny, intelligent, interesting, and fun to be around. In college, his group of friends were intelligent, funny, interesting, and witty. And it continues now. All of them basically good people.
It must be a reflection of his character. I don't think he's that much different from me in terms of social interaction, but something at his core is a magnet that attracts really good people into his life.
At my core is a magnet that attracts misfits and crazies who I love dearly for as long as they last in my life, but are more about crazy than . . . the "good life" (that is to say "crazy" is artistic and creative and facing demons, and the "good life" symbolizes normative and mature).
However, Rob is also the "distant" sibling. When he is around, he's kind, warm, and accommodating. A great brother by any measure, but when he's not around, he does his best to have as little to do with the family as possible and he's hard to nail down.
He's a wall that none of us can read. He was the middle child who was caught between fights between me and our other brother and me and our parents. We exchanged our share of fisticuffs as well. And whatever I went through to mess me up, he went through, too.
The emotional toll, I shouldn't wonder, was significant, which is why all slack gets cut for him now. As far as I'm concerned, he can do no wrong, but it is frustrating when he's vague and elusive.
There was one summer that I stayed with my brothers when they were living together in Providence, Rhode Island, where they both attended Brown University. I was shocked to witness Rob venomously cutting down Tom, our oldest brother, for doing some slight thing wrong.
Tom just stood there and took it (one of my thoughts at the time was that Rob would never talk to me in that tone of voice). I don't think he is proud of that behavior, which might explain why when he acts or does something in a way that might objectively be perceived as being inconsiderate or 'not thoughtful' to me, he'll go into a mumbling waffle, subtly addressing, defending, or justifying why he didn't do this, or why he didn't do that, in narrative form, when he doesn't need to justify anything to me.
I don't think I'll ever get to know what's inside him, or how he feels about what he went through with the family. Come to think of it, though, I think all I need to know about him is reflected in the friends who surround him.
Saturday, February 01, 2003
Received via email from Glen:
Messages That Appeared on Buttons and Signs at Saturday's Demonstration in D.C.
1) These colors don't run the world.
2) One nation under surveillance.
3) How did our oil get under their sand?
4) Go Solar, not Ballistic.
5) Who would Jesus bomb?
6) Start Drafting SUV Drivers Now.
7) Don't blame me - I voted with the majority.
8) Buck Fush!
9) It's NUCLEAR, not NUCULAR, you idiot!
10) One goose-step, two goose-steps . . .
11) Resistance is Fertile.
12) On a picture of sheep carrying flags: Stop Mad Sheep Disease.
13) On a U.F.W. sign: Pick Fruit, not Fights.
14) On a five year old: More Candy, Less War.
15) Oh, say can you see my democracy?
16) With picture of Bush, Cheney & Rumsfeld: The Asses of Evil.
17) IT'S THE OIL, STUPID!
18) War is expensive; peace is priceless.
19) READ BETWEEN THE PIPELINES.
20) No More Bush-it!
21) Smart weapons. Dumb president.
22) The only thing we have to fear is Bush himself.
23) How many lives per gallon?
24) Peace Takes Brains.
25) Anything war can do, peace can do better.
26) Negotiation, Not Annihilation.
27) Make touchdowns, not war. Go Raiders!
28) Another patriot for peace.
29) Oh Say, can You Cease?
30) Star Spangled Bummer
31) The President is a Real Son of a Bush!
32) Don't do it, George. Poppy will still love you.
33) Power to the Peacemakers.
34) The last time a nation listened to a Bush, they wandered in the desert for forty years.
35) To the people of Earth: Don't blame us. We voted for the other guy.
And I thought San Francisco was goofy . . .
Messages That Appeared on Buttons and Signs at Saturday's Demonstration in D.C.
1) These colors don't run the world.
2) One nation under surveillance.
3) How did our oil get under their sand?
4) Go Solar, not Ballistic.
5) Who would Jesus bomb?
6) Start Drafting SUV Drivers Now.
7) Don't blame me - I voted with the majority.
8) Buck Fush!
9) It's NUCLEAR, not NUCULAR, you idiot!
10) One goose-step, two goose-steps . . .
11) Resistance is Fertile.
12) On a picture of sheep carrying flags: Stop Mad Sheep Disease.
13) On a U.F.W. sign: Pick Fruit, not Fights.
14) On a five year old: More Candy, Less War.
15) Oh, say can you see my democracy?
16) With picture of Bush, Cheney & Rumsfeld: The Asses of Evil.
17) IT'S THE OIL, STUPID!
18) War is expensive; peace is priceless.
19) READ BETWEEN THE PIPELINES.
20) No More Bush-it!
21) Smart weapons. Dumb president.
22) The only thing we have to fear is Bush himself.
23) How many lives per gallon?
24) Peace Takes Brains.
25) Anything war can do, peace can do better.
26) Negotiation, Not Annihilation.
27) Make touchdowns, not war. Go Raiders!
28) Another patriot for peace.
29) Oh Say, can You Cease?
30) Star Spangled Bummer
31) The President is a Real Son of a Bush!
32) Don't do it, George. Poppy will still love you.
33) Power to the Peacemakers.
34) The last time a nation listened to a Bush, they wandered in the desert for forty years.
35) To the people of Earth: Don't blame us. We voted for the other guy.
And I thought San Francisco was goofy . . .
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